


Come As You Are

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Grinding, M/M, Sweat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For my Mandy, who requested Chris having a kink for <a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m9wa5vPznz1qbmqtto1_500.jpg">disgustingly sweaty!Darren</a>.  PORN AHOY.  Major major sweat kink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come As You Are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



The first rule of Attending One of Darren's Shows Without Being Noticed Club is that you don't talk about Attending One of Darren's Shows Without Being Noticed Club. In the beginning, Chris had tried a lot of different ways of achieving this--he tried going with Darren's friends, he tried going with his friends, he tried going with family, and he tried going with strictly mutual friends. None of these methods ever managed to keep the paparazzi off of their backs. None of them kept the rumor mills from churning or the suggestive notes in the tabloids from being printed. 

The only option left is to simply--sneak in. Go alone, tell no one where he's going, and dress so completely down that he's not noticed. He learns how to rock pretty much every sunglasses and hat combination known to man. It works the best when he doesn't even confirm with Darren or any of Darren's co-performers that he's going to be there.

And okay; it's a lot of fun surprising Darren backstage. He always manages to keep Darren guessing about whether or not he'll be there, and he has to admit that it's exciting every time. Will Darren have predicted it or not? Will he be surprised? Will there be blowjobs?

...okay, so that last one should probably be a little higher on the list. He is sure that Darren would agree.

On this particular evening he's succeeded in slipping in entirely unnoticed Darren isn't the only performer, and even when he goes on he shares the stage, but it's just as awesome and hot as it always is; Chris sips a drink slowly and watches Darren play guitar and sing. It's nothing new, but it never ceases to impress him and turn him on--Darren is probably the most passionate, earnest person that Chris has ever met. He's often a contradiction but he's never unreachable, and that comes across so clearly every time that he plays for a live audience. This is Darren at his most basic; this is what he's really and truly made to do, and Chris just fucking loves that.

High off of the success of sneaking in unseen, Chris slides backstage and crashes the backrooms one by one until he finds Darren's--the over spill of Darren's telltale person effects gives him away every time--and settles in with his laptop and the remainder of the drink he's been nursing all evening. Darren had handed off the mic to someone else just before he'd wandered back here, but it'll take Darren a while to make it backstage. Chris is used to this.

It takes about half an hour tonight. He hears Darren outside the tiny walk-in closet sized room, shouting, "Just let me get my wallet man, I got you--" The door bangs open and Darren pulls up short. "Oh, fuck. Chris?"

Chris grins. "Sec, let me get to a safe spot." He jabs a few directional keys on his laptop.

"Man, are you playing Knights of the Old Republic in my swanky dressing room?"

"No?" Chris tabs out of the game. "Yes." He grins. "Sorry, someone forwarded me a copy and I'd forgotten how awesome it was." He waves his hands and makes a wookie noise, fighting back a giggle when Darren's parrots it--kind of badly--back at him.

Darren is wearing a purple t-shirt with a faded Freelance Whales logo and black jeans, both of which are literally soaked with sweat. Like--not just soaked, that's not even the word. It looks like he'd taken a shower in his clothes. His hair is a dripping mess of curls. The moisture is clinging to the slender, muscled bend of every bit of exposed skin--his face, throat, and collarbones, his arms, wrists, and fingers.

Chris licks his lips. "You were awesome. As usual."

"And you are sneaky. As usual." Darren walks over to him slowly, hips moving a little too silkily, back and forth. 

He knows that Chris has a total thing for him post-performance, disgustingly sweaty and pumped up on endorphins. They've had some of the most dirty sex of their relationship right after performances (hell, the first time they hooked up had been on the Glee Live tour).

"When are you going to accept that I'm just that ninja?" Chris asks, sliding his laptop closed and putting it aside. Darren flops onto the creaky couch beside him, then slides one arm around his waist and pulls Chris into his lap.

"C'mere and make out with me, ninja," Darren says, grinning. He slides his hands into the back pockets of Chris' jeans and pulls their bodies together.

"You reek," Chris complains. Darren's sweat-slick fingers squeeze his ass.

"You love it," he responds, catching Chris' lips under his and pushing them apart with his tongue.

"Uh, weren't you on your way to drunken debauchery?" Chris asks, the last part cut off as Darren grinds up against him.

"They can wait," Darren answers, licking a stripe down the side of Chris' neck. 

Chris' nostrils flare. God, Darren smells so sharp, it's almost offensive--almost. It's like every bit of musk that his body can produce coming out of his pores. 

Chris bites down on the pronounced muscle at the curve of Darren's throat, humming. His fingers paw at the hem of Darren's shirt while he noses his way down, biting at his collarbone and nipples through the material.

When the shirt's off, he can't help but lick his way across Darren's sweaty shoulders. The moisture is thick and salty and heady on his tongue. He licks down to the edge of Darren's armpit, feeling Darren shudder and buck underneath him.

Someone knocks on the door. 

They freeze for a moment, and then Chris slides onto his back on the tiny couch and drags Darren on top of him. "Come on," he breathes, wrapping one leg around Darren's waist and tugging. "Come on, let me fucking touch you," he breathes, sliding one hand down Darren's slick back to the soaked waistband of his jeans. He slides his hand down the back of Darren's jeans and squeezes his ass through his underwear.

"Shit," Darren breathes out, hot and humid across Chris' cheek. His hair rains droplets of sweat all over Chris' face. Some of it even falls across Chris' lips and mouth, and he licks the moisture back into his throat, groaning in pleasure. God, it tastes good.

They're rock hard against each other. Chris curses and unbuttons his shirt, tossing it aside. He pulls again, not content until Darren's sweaty torso is locked against his. He loves what moisture does to Darren's body hair--he actually just loves Darren's body hair. He tongues a hair-ringed nipple, relishing Darren's whimper.

Chris rocks his hips up. "Wish we had more time," he gasps; their cocks line up just right through their jeans then, and he thrusts up hard, spreading his legs. He can feel Darren's ass churn under his hands, between his thighs. God, the bend of that muscled back, those wide shoulders--he could fucking come just watching Darren move.

"Fuck, me too." Darren bites at his throat as they grind together, building up friction. "God, I want to fuck you. Want to fuck you and hear you fucking scream my name. Have fucking wet dreams about your goddamn legs around me, Chris, shit."

Chris moans, allowing the teasing to work him closer and closer. Even the sweat coating Darren's ass and balls is hot to him right now; he fantasizes about licking his cock and balls clean of sweat, of burying his face in Darren's crack and just sucking all the bitter moisture off of his hole.

He twists his hands in Darren's wet curls and pulls at them, redirecting Darren to the other side of his throat. Darren sucks hard at the skin there, rocking quickly now down against Chris' body; they're both close but putting off the inevitable.

Chris pants against Darren's Adam's apple, sucking the sweat off of his muscled throat even as it drips down onto Chris' face and hair. He's embarrassed to even admit it, but he keeps dipping his tongue and lips against Darren's armpits intentionally, burying himself in the slippery hair and inhaling and licking frantically. He doesn't think Darren even cares; he's slamming their hips together as if they could fuck through their jeans, head thrown back and heart racing.

"Oh shit," Darren moans. He goes still, bracing himself on his hands on either side of Chris' body, and Chris can feel it when he comes in his pants, the little stutter that makes his thighs shake, the way that his lower back tenses up.

God, he is so fucking hot.

Chris grabs him around his waist and flips him over.

"Fuck, Chris."

"Shut up. Cleaning you off." Fuck fantasizing about it and fuck the time constraint and fuck Darren's friends. Chris jerks Darren's pants open as he licks and sucks his way down that sweaty chest, over the salty, musky bellybutton which he dips his tongue into briefly, down through the thick trail of hair, down over the adorably rounded pouch that Darren has developed lately. He strips Darren's soaked boxers down--sweat and semen and god, the smell is so fucking strong here that it blows up in Chris' nostrils and he can't even breathe he's so turned on.

He licks every drop of come from Darren's skin, no matter where it had gotten. He licks clean the shaft of his cock, the warm soft crinkle of his ball sack, and even manages to tease his musky little hole briefly before all the sweat and come is gone and Darren is half-hard again and watching him with wide, astonished, fucked out eyes.

"Jesus Christ," he hisses, thrusting fingers into Chris' hair.

"I'm staying at a Best Western just across town," Chris breathes, biting his way across Darren's heaving belly. "Can you get away later? Even if it's really late?"

"Fuck, yes."

Chris licks over Darren's salty collarbone and up the column of his throat. He sucks salty sweat from the spot just behind Darren's ear, shoving his nose into the wet hair behind it. "And Darren?" He grins. "Don't shower, okay?"


End file.
